


All Happiness Depends

by JinkyO



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Breakfast, Case Fic, Gen, some light fluffy preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:56:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinkyO/pseuds/JinkyO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's smile carried over in his voice, “Lunches, breakfasts, you're going to fatten me up, Harold.”<br/>“Rest assured, that is not my intention, Mr. Reese. Think of how much it would cost to have all of your suits let out!”</p><p>A new number comes in after the food truck and John gets to dress up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Happiness Depends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vagabond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagabond/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Panzo con un Amico](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1364722) by [Vagabond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagabond/pseuds/Vagabond). 



"Newton's first law of motion, Mr. Reese. An object in motion tends to stay in motion unless it is acted upon by an outside force. Like gravity," Finch extended his left foot to the bark chips underneath the swing set, pushing himself back into a gentle arc. “The second law states that, if my push-off was as strong as yours, I'd be swinging higher.”

“And the third law?” John asked quietly, no longer swinging, now just twisting slowly, listening to the overhead clink and clunk of the metal swing chains.

“That's the one everyone knows.” Finch brought both feet forward this time, bringing the swing to a slow halt. “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”

“So, a haircut causes a food truck run?” John unfolded himself from the swing and stood beside Harold, dropping his arm casually. He turned his head to scan the park, turned his head to hide his pleased smile when he felt Harold brace against his forearm and pull himself out of the low slung swing.

“Something like that, Mr. Reese. Though, I imagine Sir Issac never enjoyed the singular pleasure of a piping hot Philadelphia cheese steak on a cold winter afternoon. ” Harold lifted his hand from John's arm and took a moment to straighten his coat.

They walked back to the library, shoulder to shoulder, Reese to Finch's right, protecting his street side flank. A phone one block from the library rang and gave them their next number.

Back at the library Finch went to work decoding the number and pulling up the details on their latest case while Reese circled his desk. “Oh dear,” the older man after a few minutes of typing. “Negasi Kibebe, 44, married, three children. He's a professional engineer working for the Labinger-Arden Building Company.”

“They're putting up that new high-rise in midtown. You think that's where the threat is?” Reese asked, frowning.

“Possibly.” Finch paused to study the records on screen. John slowed his pacing, “What?”

“Nothing in Mr. Kibebe's background suggests he's a perpetrator. No criminal history or associates, his financial affairs are sound, his family looks happy enough – the wife is an avid user of social media.” Finch scrolled through a few more screens. “Labinger-Arden, on the other hand, has a bit more motive. The high-rise project is massively over budget and behind schedule. Thanks, in no small part, to Mr. Kibebe's refusing to sign off on a series of final inspections. According to his reports, the company used inferior building materials in an effort to cut costs.”

“How far would Labinger-Arden go to get those sign-offs?”

“Why don't we find out?” Finch levered his upper body towards Reese. “Check the coatroom in Children's Literature, there should be enough in there to pull off a passable construction worker. I'll get to work on cracking into their network.”

A short while later Reese emerged from the stacks. He'd swapped his black button down for a thick sweater, topped by a loose flannel and orange safety vest. Rugged boots, a hard hat and a well worn leather tool belt completed the look. “Do I even want to know, Finch?”

His partner quirked a quick, lopsided smile. “No. No, you don't. Now, Mr. Reese, you should get going. You don't want to be any later than you already are for your first day on the job.” Finch handed over an identification card, still warm from the printer, John Rhodes. “The construction crew suddenly found themselves short a man. I assume you know your way around a jackhammer? I need you to get the actual inspection reports and vendor lists, plus anything else that may help us. I'll be in touch.”

As it turned out, John never even got to touch a jackhammer. Police sirens and an ambulance were parked inside the fenced off construction area when he arrived on-site. John blended in with a group of onlooking workers. “What's going on?”

A squat, bearded man answered. “Guy fell off the scaffolding up there.” John followed the man's eyes to a spot on at least 14 stories up.

“Is he dead?” John had a strong suspicion who the guy might have been.

“That's the damnedest thing. Of all the things he could have hit on the way down, this lucky bastard lands on a pallet of pink insulation. I heard he broke a leg. Also heard he might have been pushed.”

John grunted his thanks. “Did you get that, Finch?”

“Indeed, Mr. Reese. It just came over the police scanner. Mr. Kibebe is okay. I'm contacting Miss Shaw now to provide extra security at the hospital. I'm also sending you his home address. I believe the threat is coming from Labinger Arden's Director of Project Management, a Mrs. Shelia Leftwich. She didn't finish the job and we should be there in case she sends someone after Mr. Kibebe's family.” There was a slight pause on the other end of the comm before Finch finished, “John, be careful.”

Mrs. Kibebe didn't ask many questions when John showed up on her doorstep. Her husband had obviously shared his concerns about the shoddy construction work. She and the two younger children followed the mysterious construction worker down the back way out of the condo. John escorted the family to a nearby day school to pick up the oldest son, then he got them all settled into a nearby hotel under assumed names.

With the Kibebe family safe for the moment, John took the time to check in. Shaw had seen some action at the hospital, two hit men posing as orderlies had made an attempt on the engineer. John had a chuckle at Finch's retelling of the story and the irony of the two thugs now admitted as patients in the same hospital. “I found a treasure trove of billing statements, faulty safety reports and money transfers between the project contractor and Mrs. Leftwich. I'm sorting it all out and will be sending the details to our friend Miss Angelis at the Journal. Unfortunately, this will be an all night job.”

“S'ok, Finch. Take your time and do it right. Mrs. Kibebe is holding up, but the kids are terrified, they don't understand why they're spending the night at a hotel or why their father isn't home yet.”

“Watch over them, John. I'll have you back home in time for breakfast.”

John's smile carried over in his voice, “Lunches, breakfasts, you're going to fatten me up, Harold.”

“Rest assured, that is not my intention, Mr. Reese. Think of how much it would cost to have all of your suits let out!”

“How much would it cost, Harold?” John imagined Finch doing the math in his head during the quiet lull and was disappointed when there was no snappy rejoinder.

“Focus on the job, John. Find out what you can from Mrs. Kibebe. I'll contact you if anything comes up.”

John slept lightly on the sofa of the hotel suite. The night passed quietly. He was startled awake early the next morning by the rattle of the doorknob. Mr. Kibebe on crutches, Shaw guarding his rear and herding the injured man inside. John tucked his gun back into his waist band. He ignored Shaw's smirk, he was still dressed down in the construction worker's outfit.

“You and Finch don't quit with the Halloween, do you?” She stepped over to stand next to him as the children came spilling from the adjoining room to greet their father.

“Is it all over?” John asked.

“The scandal made the front page of the Journal's morning edition. It's all over the TV too. Finch did good, I think our guy is safe.”

“I heard you didn't do so bad yourself.” John collected his tool belt and hard hat from the coffee table. “Are you okay with getting them back to their house?”

“Sure.” She eyed him as he fastened on the belt. “What's your hurry?”

“Breakfast, Shaw. The most important meal of the day.” John slipped out of the room before the family noticed. He hailed a cab to get him across town. He really needed to restock that Children's Literature closet with a wider selection of outfits, he thought. Lunch wear, breakfast outfits, an extra suit or two so he wouldn't be caught in between dry cleaner deliveries like he was yesterday. Four blocks away he had the cab pull over then took a meandering route to the library.

Finch looked even worse for wear, John decided. His rumpled suit jacket hung on the back of his chair, the morning newspaper opened up over his keyboard. He'd obviously been at the computer all night. “I can take a rain check on breakfast if you'd rather go home and get some rest.” John offered, tamping down the disappointment of that prospect in his voice.

Finch smiled back, morning sun catching the dark stubble over his cheeks. “About two-hundred fifty a suit, John. And for those prices I may as well enjoy the ride and let you buy breakfast. Is the Lyric Cafe agreeable?”

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely Vagabond wrote the follow up to this, go check it out: [Out-and-Back](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1393510)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Out-and-Back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1393510) by [Vagabond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagabond/pseuds/Vagabond)




End file.
